


A Midsummer Layover’s Dream

by Corinne K (Corinne_K)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Airline AU, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cabin crew Curtis, Commercial pilot Shiro, Getting Together, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Moving On, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 06:20:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20634515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corinne_K/pseuds/Corinne%20K
Summary: Captain Shirogane may be a bit rough on the take off and landing, but the ex-fighter pilot is determined to make a fresh new start, leaving past tragedies behind. A layover in the Tokyo summer brings him close to a certain cabin crew...





	A Midsummer Layover’s Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Hello fellow Shurtis lovers :)  
Here's a little something my mind cooked up while flying back home from a short break.  
Enjoy!

“Oh my God, Major PILF at 9 o’clock!”

The relative silence of the airport lounge was broken by the not so hushed comment. Curtis let his eyes idly drift, first towards the origin of the voice - a pair of sky girls from another airline - and then to their target - a tall, grey-haired fellow, handsome, square jawed, high cheek bones, sporting four stripes on the shoulder and Curtis’ airline badge on the lapel.

_Wait... is that...?_

The man stopped at the counter and poured himself a cup of tea, no sugar. The hand that held the saucer was dark grey.

_Is this man the new captain?_

The answer came in the form of a steady stroll towards the gathering of cabin crew dressed in the orange, white and grey of Atlas Airlines. Midway, a younger man in pilot garb and overconfident sway joined the pilot’s flank.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,” he began, when everyone was gathered. His voice was pleasant and firm, with a metallic undertone. “My name is Captain Takashi Shirogane. This is First Officer James Griffin. We will be flying this route with you. Please take care of us.”

The last sentence was said with a curt yet deferential bow. How very Japanese. But also kind of... nice?

“Stop drooling buddy...”

Veronica came up beside him, smug in her cabin manager uniform, trolley rolling behind her.

“Oh, shush. I don’t do pilots.”

She laughed quietly, classy as ever, “We’re heading to Tokyo, dear. If nothing else you can always go sight seeing.”

“Sure,” he dismissed.

Once they boarded the plane, a brand new Dreamliner, starry-skied ceilings and shape shifting windows, the usual bustle of their preparations took over. The handsome new captain was all but forgotten.

It was only a while later, when they were taxiing down the runway, strapped in to their jump seats, that the subject re-emerged.

“I heard he was a fighter pilot,” said Romelle, while inspecting her perfectly manicured nails.

Veronica rolled her eyes. “Hold tight.”

And so they did.

The thing with pilots who’ve recently transferred from the army was... well, they were not bad per se, but they were certainly a bit rough.

The night sky was clear, but they were running slightly late due to air traffic constraints. Thus, Captain Shirogane must have decided to catch up to schedule right off the bat... which got them climbing up at breakneck speed, gripping their seats through a series of slightly unorthodox manoeuvres.

“Ugh. Was this really necessary?”

“Was that a puking sound?”

“I don’t know. Either way they’ll have to wait until cruising altitude. There’s no way I’m unbuckling now.”

“Calm down. We’ve seen worse.”

The chatter went on for a while in the galley as they soared through the skies. Then, the seatbelt sign was finally turned off and they could start the service. It was going to be a long 12 hours...

Curtis was in the process of filling plastic cups with orange and apple juice from paper packets when Veronica taped his side. “The captain asked for a tea. Prepare it and bring it to him.”

“There’s no one in first that can do it?”

Veronica was their cabin dragon, the most senior crew. Curtis was somewhere in between. He was in charge of economy, so it was strange that he should be asked to go all the way to cockpit to serve the captain.

“Green tea, water at 80 degrees Celsius, no sugar.”

“Wow, any preference on the type of napkin?”

"Just make it fast."

No use in protesting. Veronica had something up her sleeve, but he would deal with that later. Now, he had to somehow prepare an acceptable tea for their surprisingly specific air man, and get it to the flight deck before it ran cold. Was it weird that he suddenly felt really invested in such small task?

* * *

There was an area of weather over Siberia, then the usual turbulence over the Gobi desert. It would be good to get his meal out of the way before either of those. He called Veronica over the intercom. It was comforting to find an old friend in such an unfamiliar environment. The woman had always been closer with Adam, but they’d remained in contact even after disaster struck. He’d been surprised, earlier, when his tea came in by the hand of a young crew member rather than her, but he blamed it on cabin manager workload. The tea was perfectly done and the man was easy on the eyes, so he didn’t complain.

Now that the whole plane was sleeping and the crew was certainly taking a break,he knew something was up when the same blue-eyed boy entered the cockpit, carrying his dinner.

“Captain, here you go. First Officer Griffin, would you like me to start warming up your meal too?”

“Yes, please,” James replied, eyes on the controls he was currently operating.

Takashi picked at his salad and lifted the lid of his warm dish. Baked potatoes with what looked like spinach and some white fish. It was no banquet, but still a luxury compared to the military rations he was used to.

He ate in silence. Like him, James had moved to commercial aviation from the army, but for different reasons. At some point in time, he knew the younger man had idolised him, but that was before the crash, before the amputation and the eventual end of his career. It surprised him that even a commercial airline would take him in. Perhaps the industry was not as competitive these days.

It was slightly lame to be dreading the turbulent skies ahead, but he had learned humility through great loss.

Fortunately, the harsh weather came and went and the plane carried on, loaded with souls, lulled and asleep, trusting and unaware.

When they landed, Takashi found himself tired but awake. In that state, it would be impossible to attain the dark, dreamless sleep he longed for. So he let himself be steered by the crew, first to their hotel to check in and change, and then into town for dinner. They sat at the long sushi bar and had their fill. Whereas Tokyo had never been home for long, it felt good to remember the taste and the ambience, to hear the familiar staccato of his native language. But even on a full stomach, still the sleepiness wouldn’t come.

The next place they went to was a sort of speakeasy bar, on a fifth floor of an inconspicuous Ginza building. There, the crew broke up into a few smaller groups. James had kept him company through the stroll, but he was now clearly showing interest in one of the girls, so Takashi decided to not bother him. Instead, he sat at the bar and wondered what to drink. Gin had been his go-to drink for a while, but something about the golden corners of the counter and the shiny woods lined with bottles made him nostalgic. It was such a common place that it surprised him when the words dropped from his lips.

“_Haibōru_”

The barman gave him a look. He definitely looked Japanese, he was sure that was still the correct word, but his accent was all off. He shrugged and added, “if you please”, for good measure.

Booze flew in all directions and soon the bar was alit with cheerful talk. Eventually, they moved to a club. Takashi was just following them along at this point. To be fair, Veronica did hang out for a bit, but she began to yawn and soon excused herself. He wished her a good night with a kiss in the cheek and decided to just linger a little longer, waiting for sleep to come.

Flying solo now, he took a seat by the bar and ordered another whiskey highball. He was getting the hang of it by now, and the barman only gave him half a look this time. For a moment, he considered making an effort to mingle. The crew had regrouped into one big rowdy bunch, their voices shooting loudly above the techno music.

That was when a lone figure left the gathering and walked his way. Takashi squinted. The man looked familiar, but something was off. The blue eyes gave him away, but the hair was now combed back in effortless waves, a white shirt, unbuttoned below the collarbone, showcased a hint of brown smooth skin, and blue jeans hugged long lean legs in all the right places. As he drew nearer, the glint of a hoop flashed in his left ear.

Takashi quirked him an eyebrow, trying to act nonchalant as the man made his approach.

“Hi,” he greeted, with a small hand wave, “I’m Curtis, in case you didn’t look at the name tag. This is all liquid courage so please forget about it later, ok?”

Was he drunk? He didn’t seem to stumble or slur, but there was something hyper that had been tightly repressed throughout their previous interactions. Takashi nodded him to carry on.

“Right, so, I’m here because I lost a bet, and now I have to tell you, on behalf of the whole crew… that your take off sucked balls.”

"Uh?" Takashi was shook - and a bit wounded in his pride. “W-was it that bad?”

The man looked sheepish, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “There were passengers puking, Sir.”

Oh. Shit.

“N-no, wait!” he stuttered, waving his hands frantically, “you did a great job in the thunderstorm, though! So, next time, please, ugh, maybe just a bit less _top gun_ on the take off…”

“Noted… _Curtis_.”

And with that he winced, and his eyes grew wide. “Thank you.”

They were face to face, Takashi perched on a stool and Curtis standing facing the bar. A moment of awkward silence went by. The man made a motion to turned around, but stopped himself. He hesitated. Takashi couldn’t deny the interest that had been stirred, but he still didn’t think it was a good idea to initiate something. Perhaps they could just have a drink together, like crew and captain, nothing much to it. He opened his mouth to say something along the lines of “what are you drinking”, but Curtis beat him to it.

“Is that highball?”

“Uh… yeah? Would you like one?”

“Yeah? Yeah, I guess so…”

“Ok.”

“Ok… Thanks.”

And so they drank. From no common ground for conversation a little tendril sprouted and grew. Topics called topics and the booze made everything make so much sense. Curtis was funny in an earnest sort of way. He made the mundane seem endearing and refused to take himself too seriously - well, at least as long as there was a bit of whiskey running in his system.

They moved to yet another bar. Walking down the street, the larger group soon overtook them. They were now openly drunk and stumbling against each other. That’s when things began to derail. It was the physicality of it, the humid heat of Tokyo summer, the contact of their bodies when they crashed, a bold finger touching an open palm, a tentative curling of hands around one another, aborted before they could lock and stay that way.

There was little about that new bar that Takashi would later recall. Perhaps a hazy memory of the murals by the door, an impression of the music that was playing, the width of the space, or the notion that it was fairly crowded - but in the forefront of his senses, at that moment, there was only Curtis. He’d avoided this for so long - the thrill, the burn.

Adam, Adam, Adam. How could he ever move on?

The thought gave him pause, but Curtis had been increasingly handsy for a while, and the light brush of fingers on his forearm snapped him out of his thoughts.

“You ok? You seemed really… sad... for a moment there.”

“I... I’m ok. Sorry.”

“No worries. So, are you, ah… staying for long?”

There was a hopeful glint in those blue eyes and Takashi found himself weak, very weak.

“Na, I’m heading back… You?”

“Yeah… Share a taxi?”

“Hmm,” Shiro hummed low.

There was not much one could do in a taxi, with its back seats adorned by pristine crochet, a respectable senior in a uniform in the front. Hands slid under thighs, shoulders crashed together, lips got bitten in sweet anticipation. The liquor swirled inside his head, boosting his desire, and, if only for a night, letting him forget.

* * *

How did he end up here? Dragging his feet down a carpeted corridor, towing the new captain by the hand into his room. He fumbled the magnetic card and they both started laughing. Takashi had such a contagious smile, all white teeth and long dark lashes.

“Don’t do that in the cockpit.”

“Dropping stuff or hooking up with you?”

He was too drunk to squat. He bent over to pick up the card and the world took a wild spin. Takashi was there steadying him when he swayed, but when he was uprighthe got a not so gentle shove from behind.

_It’s hot in here._

They finally made it into the room, pushing, pulling and groping until they were halfway to the king size bed. That’s when, in a moment that seemed to stretch, suspended on a thread of time, they held each other’s gaze, and finally let their lips unite.

Long ago, he’d promised himself to swear off pilots once and for all. He wasn’t particularly promiscuous, but he’d have his fair share of affairs. The rule was, obviously, to never fall in love - a rule he’d broken - twice - to disastrous results on both counts. But it was ok, as long as it was only sex, right?

They were still kissing when clothes began to drop. He tugged at the captain’s t-shirt but felt resistance from the other man. He stopped and pulled back.

“You’re gonna want to leave that on.”

“Why?”

The man made a helpless motion with his hands, then looked down. Curtis had been so dumb. It was only then that he thought of that not so small detail - the prosthetic arm.

“I don’t mind to see it. No, I want to see it.”

Takashi seemed to give it some though, then reluctantly let go of the long sleeve.

Curtis pulled the black v-neck over Takashi’s head. Underneath was fair skin and a ripped body that made his mood instantly soar. On the right side, resting along the sculpted torso, was the alien limb. The proportions were carefully kept, but the junction of flesh and carbon fiber was, admittedly, unsightly.

“Sorry,” Takashi said, defeated, “didn’t want to turn you off.”

He felt a pang of pain when he heard those words.

It was supposed to be fine as long as it was just sex.

_Oh fuck it._

Curtis brought his hands up to cup Takashi’s face and kissed him again, gently, unhurriedly. Then, he let his lips wonder down collarbone and shoulder, and started peppering light kisses along the edge of the stump. Takashi froze. They were both fragile vessels at that point. Things could go south at any moment. But Takashi kept his cool. Slowly he began to relax. His good hand came to rest on Curtis’ waist, his head fell back, and he hummed softly at the influx of care and attention. When the time was ripe, Curtis nudged him to the bed and lay him down, cradling his neck, arranging the pillows to support him. Only then did he move over to a light straddle.

“Ok?”

Takashi opened his eyes. There was something undecipherable there, as though he’d just returned from a deep dive into his own mind. Nevertheless, the man was present at that instant and gave him a curt nod, the hint of a grin cracking at the corner of his lips.

“So, uh, do you have a preference?” he asked.

Takashi seemed to consider it for a beat, then shrugged, “you lead.”

“Ok… right. So, uh, let me know if something is not alright…”

“Sure.”

Oh, the possibilities. He licked his lips as he spread his fingers over hard pecs. It was almost unfair how the captain seemed to offer himself without the least resistance. He scooted down so that he could dip his head toward a chiselled torso and laid a kiss on Takashi’s stomach. He caressed his sides with both hands and proceeded to unbutton the man’s jeans, before sliding them down together with his briefs. The captain's cock was only half mast. Maybe the whole arm ordeal actually turned him off more than it did Curtis. But that problem could be mended. And so he got to work, starting with light patting, feeling up the volume and weight, then giving it a perfunctory lick. At once, the man resting against the pillows heaved a laboured breath and the flaccid appendage stiffened in his lips. Good. He pressed onward, giving the captain his best treatment. A few seconds later, fingers wormed through his hair - velvety carbon fibre fingers, cold and unyielding. It was such a turn on. With that, Takashi quit the passive act altogether and pulled Curtis upward, kissing him, groping, tugging at the clothes that still covered him. Those dark mechanical fingers might not feel the same as flesh, but they did a quick work of his button up shirt, then his jeans and briefs. They were finally skin on skin, pressed together, hands everywhere. The remnants of the alcohol still coursed through his system, but the dizziness was gone.

“I have supplies. Hang on.”

Rummaging through his trolley at that time was a bit nerve wracking but he managed. They sat cross legged, drunkenly contemplating the two items that rested on the mattress. Their eyes met. Takashi’s were impossibly warm, enhanced by the glow of the table lamp. They slowly brought their hands forward, as though reaching for a double sided mirror. Takashi’s eyes blinked closed as he let his face rest in Curtis’ hands. He dove forward and kissed the scar that cut across the bridge of the man’s nose, right below his eyes. He pressed forward until Takashi’s back hit the mattress.

This was altogether not what Curtis had expected. His hips fell easily between the other man’s legs. This was the moment of truth: could he really fuck this handsome pilot?

* * *

When Curtis woke up it was still dark. The clock on the bedside table marked 04:12 in big glowing digits. He was soft and comfortable under the covers, the aircon providing the chilly environment that he favored for sleep.

The memories of a couple of hours back came flooding into his slowly awakening consciousness. He smiled in the dark. _That_ had been glorious. Just thinking of _Captain Shirogane_ squirming underneath him, writhing in his arms..._ What the fuck? _How did he get so lucky?

Speaking of which, the man must have left some time after the deed. Curtis palmed the other side of the bed. It was cold. Well, he’d got his wish after all - just sex, no strings attached, no morning after.

Since he was awake he might as well visit the bathroom, then perhaps nod off again, before hitting the gym or the pool.

He waddled the few steps to the semi-opened door. There was no light inside, but the softest sound, muffled by the hum of the aircon, gave him pause. A sniffle?

He tiptoed to the threshold. Weird stories in hotels were not uncommon among cabin crew. He took a peek.

It was definitely not a ghost, but he couldn’t decide if that relieved him at all. Sitting on the floor, back against the bathtub, knees drawn up to his nose, there was Takashi. His eyes were glistening in the faint green light of the emergency sign. Curtis' heart sunk. He had no idea what to say or do. He settled on-

“Hey...”

Takashi looked up, still hazy. “Hey.”

“Was it that bad?” he blurted out.

That earned him a small chuckle. He took it as permission to take a seat on the same diminutive patch of floor tiles.

“It was the opposite of bad,” he heard. Takashi’s voice was kind but dull. Their moment had passed. This was just the aftermath, and a weird one at that.

“Want to talk?”

Takashi shrugged weakly. “I don’t know.”

“Look, we just met and I don’t want to tell you to open up because that’s a.... er... pretty bad joke, but, you know... I’m here. Whatever you say won’t leave this room. Promise.”

Takashi took a deep breath. It warmed his heart that for a moment the captain might actually consider his offer. There was a shuffle of limbs. Takashi was now sitting cross legged, staring at his mismatched palms.

“You’re the second person I’ve-“ he paused, the words clearly unsavoury in his mouth - “had sex with.”

Curtis let that sink in. Takashi continued after a beat. “The first person, Adam, my late fiancé, passed away in a plane crash. I crashed that plane.”

Well, that sucks. Scratch that. It’s a fucking tragedy, that’s what it is. And yet there that were, sitting on a hotel bathroom floor, talking about arguably the worst kind of grief someone can experience, and there was nothing he could say to make it better. Nada. Blank. Shit.

“You don’t need to say anything,” Takashi said, reading his thoughts, “You didn’t sign up for this. Just... just stay here a minute. I’ll show myself out after that.”

“Ok.”

Takashi closed his eyes. After a good five minutes he still made no move to leave. Curtis scooted a bit closer, then a bit more. About to lose his nerve, he allowed himself to loop his arms around Takashi’s shoulders. The skin reacted under his touch, but the man just hummed almost soundlessly. After a while like that, Takashi let himself be manoeuvred back to bed and fell asleep.

* * *

There was a smell of instant coffee in the air, a pile of workout clothes draped over a chair and a buzzing sound coming from the bathroom. How long had he slept? He walked towards the sound and found Curtis in his underwear, shaving in front of the mirror.

The reflection of the young cabin crew spotted him and smiled. Takashi was unfamiliar with this whole ordeal. He knew people had one night stands and were fine with that, but he’d had the same boyfriend since he was 18. After Adam died, he’d been too broken to date, let alone go to bed with random people. God, did people even act this nice after casual sex?Probably not. It was pity, after his sorry display in the toilet earlier that morning.

Curtis turned off his shaver, rinsed it under the tap, splashed his now clean shaven face with water and dabbed some lotion over the skin. Finally, he turned around. His torso was lean and smooth, with a small shading of hair in between dark nipples. Takashi knew he was being blatant but he couldn’t look away. His gaze slowly climbed up to eye level. Curtis returned the attention. He was starting to like moments like these, when those blue eyes were solely focused on him. Was he reading this wrong? He took a step closer, then another. He stopped. Curtis pulled him all the way in and kissed him. The man was warm all over and his hands felt oddly grounding - one holding the nape of his neck, the other resting on the small of his back. He brought his own hands to the man’s back. Even with the minimal sensation he got from his artificial limb, that embrace was enough to fill him with contentment and longing all at once. When the kiss ran its course, they remained blended like that, trading soft touches and caresses, before resuming the kiss for just a little while.

“Are you busy today?” Curtis asked. “I mean, are you going somewhere before boarding? Family, or…?”

“My family is in Kyushu, so not really. You? I mean, I’ve lived here a while, I can bring you some places… if you want…”

Curtis laughed at his embarrassment.

“I’ve been here a few times. Don’t worry about sightseeing. But maybe brunch? Some place outdoor…”

“I might know a spot…” he replied, beaming.

They would spend the night stuck inside a flying tube yet again. There, they would be captain and crew like they were on the way here. Perhaps that was all they were meant to be. But maybe not, who knows?

His pre-dawn tears had left a trail of abrasion around his eyes. He could still feel the burn if he touched his eyelids on instinct. Adam would never be forgotten. Even though the judges of his court martial had ruled him innocent - the accident caused purely by meteorological and fortuitous elements - he would bear the burden of that lost life forever. But maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to fully give up on things like intimacy, companionship… love.

It was much too early to think of that, of course. But that morning, walking down a breezy Harajuku street, side by side with a beautiful, caring man, Takashi allowed himself to dream once more.

**Author's Note:**

> Lingo and some insight on cabin crew lifestyle borrowed from the fabulous and funny https://confessionsofatrolleydolly.com  
Sorry guys, comment moderation now on - please do not be discouraged from commenting. All comments, including concrit, are welcome as long as they’re civil. Thank you for your understanding :)


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